The Gentleman
by WrittenSword
Summary: A Victorian themed masquerade benefit ball at the 'National History Museum' in London. More info in the header. Please read!
1. Chapter 1

**Pairing:** _unspecified_  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M (NSFW)  
><strong>Warning:<strong> possible mention of m/f and male bits... .  
><strong>Genre:<strong> uhm... some suspense, maybe a bit angsty - depends on how you view it - but nothing bad, smut... voyeurism, uhm... and some more smut... and yes, fluff _(and smut)._  
><strong>Summary: <strong>A Victorian themed masquerade benefit ball at the 'National History Museum' in London.

**A/N: **I'm trying something new, and the pairing is unspecified, because that's needed for the story. If you really want to know, feel free to scroll to the end (of chapter one), or p.m. me if you want to exclude some things before you read. Of course the story works better if you don't know, so for your own reading pleasure, I would urge you to just begin and see where it goes. :)  
><strong>AN2: **I was going to wait and post all three chapters at once, but now I decided to post this one already, while I continue writing. I have tomorrow and Friday off so I will finish before the weekend. It's only two more chapters after this... both full of smut. ^_^

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><p><strong>The Gentleman<strong>  
><em>by Writtensword<em>

**Chapter One**

Emily Charlton cursed when she nearly stumbled over her own feet in the marble-floored hallway. She hadn't anticipated that her previously legendary skill of holding her liquor had somehow completely disappeared in her two years at American Runway. Back then she had been too busy and obsessed with her work to continue her English drinking habits, and now that she had returned to her home land, sharing one too many glasses with her new colleagues of the London office of the fashion magazine was taking its toll.

Granted, her new boss had explained that she could consider herself off duty at tonight's benefit, however she was still surrounded by co-workers, old and new, and falling flat on her face in her three-thousand dollar moss green velvet period gown, would be utterly mortifying. She swayed into the direction of the wash rooms, while the music of the ball room still managed to reach through the thick walls and drill painfully into her skull. A few people walked past her and she hoped that no one could recognize her under the mask, as she was sure she probably didn't create the most elegant of images in her current state.

Narrowly avoiding collision with a large flower arrangement, she hurried into the lady's room and staggered to one of the sinks lining the wall. She was glad to finally pull off the porcelain disguise. A _bal masqué_ was of course something special and, in a way, utterly romantic, but Emily truly hated having to wear the heavy item against her face, leaving her cheeks sweaty and irritated.

She propped one arm on the edge of the sink and leaned forward to look at her slightly blurry face in the mirror. Her red hair was still perfect. Tight, little Victorian curls, pulled together high on her head with a few strands dangling playfully down toward the nape of her neck. Her make-up, however, was completely ruined. With a groan she turned on the tab and began to wash her face. Her colleagues had warned her not to wear too much mascara and eye shadow under the mask, but of course she hadn't listened. Emily never left the house without a perfectly painted face, tonight was no exception.

The cool water against her heated cheeks helped her regain some clarity. The main reason why she had nervously drowned herself in such copious amounts of champagne hadn't even shown up. Emily wasn't really sure why she was still so terrified of that woman. Miranda had after all been the one to arrange for Emily to be transferred to the Fashion Department of the London office, and she had even given her a decent recommendation. The redhead should be happy to see her former boss, if nothing but for the opportunity to thank her. Instead, she still felt like a child who was eternally apprehensive about receiving its parent's approval.

She reached for a hand towel and dabbed her skin dry. She thought it was a bit odd that Miranda Priestly had not shown up to a benefit for a cause she herself had helped sponsor. The National History Museum's costume department owed a lot of its financing to people like Runway's editor-in-chief, not to mention that many important people from the industry where present tonight, hoping to exchange social pleasantries with the white-haired queen of fashion.

Miranda's newly recently promoted first assistant was here, so why wasn't Miranda?

Emily tossed the towel into the wicker hamper with a growl. Andrea Sachs still roused a multitude of unpleasant feelings inside her. For almost a year they had worked together as Miranda's senior and junior assistants, and it had been rather painful for Emily to watch the once naive, badly-dressed brunette, who had struggled to even get their boss' coffee order right, turn into a gorgeous, overly capable assistant, who didn't just turn people's heads - men and women alike - but had also somehow worked herself into a favourable position with Miranda herself.

_That bloody girl and her stupid charm,_ Emily cursed silently as she glared at her reflection. Of course Andrea had been easy to recognise tonight. Even with all the guests wearing mandatory masks, which had been designed to cover everything above the lips, there was nothing that could hide the brunette's bright smile or her annoyingly sugary giggles. Emily had watched her former colleague from the side lines with nothing but contempt all night. Andrea, or 'Andréa', as Miranda always pronounced her name, had been openly flirting with some guy, seemingly unfazed by the fact that her boss had never shown up.

The gentleman, whom the brunette had been steadily wrapping around her fingers all evening, had appeared thoroughly entranced, ignoring all others' attempts at catching his attention, and Emily had been almost seething with anger at the ease with which Andrea had snared him. Not only was it a blatant disregard for work protocol - and the redhead was convinced that Andrea was supposed to be on duty, whether Miranda had actually shown up or not - but it also cast a bad light on Miranda Priestly's assistants in general.

It was a badly-kept secret that Andrea had gone to bed with Christian Thompson in Paris, and herself being a former assistant to the queen of fashion, Emily completely resented the idea that their kind could be regarded as 'easy'. Not to mention the fact that she hadn't had a good lay in over two years and was completely jealous.

She sighed and slid the mask back into place. More drinks were out of the question, because she knew she had to keep an eye on Andrea. Even if she didn't work for Miranda any more, part of her still cared, and if she could make the editor's life a bit easier by chaperoning her moronic former colleague, she would need to do just that.

Feeling more like herself again, she left the wash room and made her way back to the party. It was shortly before midnight and thanks to the constantly refilled bubbly, people were busy on the dance floor. The orchestra played Strauss, a heavy waltz that had the women's dresses twirling. Emily knew that most of the men were rich board members or share holders of Elias-Clark publishing, or likely investors for the National History Museum, but as she watched Andrea float over the floor in the arms of her mysterious gentleman, she had trouble identifying who the stranger might be.

He certainly seemed too young and mobile to belong to the old clique that usually surrounded Irv Ravitz, the chairman of Elias-Clark. There was a certain elegance to the way the gentleman was holding the brunette in his arms that almost had Emily thinking of aristocracy. She tried to remember Christian Thompson. He had a reputation for being suave and a charmer, which was how he usually managed to bed so many women. Under the man's top hat and mask, however, the redhead saw short, brown hair, and she recalled Christian having blond, raggedy curls. Maybe he had gotten a hair cut?

She sighed and continued to study the pair as they danced from one song to the next. It surprised Emily that not more people were paying attention to them, for they were certainly quite a spectacle. Then again, she knew that for the movers and shakers in the industry, only those of power held any interest. Andrea Sachs was a nobody, despite her wish to one day become a celebrated writer, and the gentleman's identity appeared to remain unknown or was insignificant.

When the music slowed down, Emily watched from her secure spot on the upper balcony how he pulled Andrea closer, into a rather intimate embrace, and the two of them swayed together almost _beautifully_. The redhead had to shake herself. She had no idea where that word had sprung from. There was nothing beautiful about her former colleague's behaviour. Still, Emily felt like there was something almost familiar between them. She wondered if Andrea had somehow managed to smuggle her boyfriend over to London. Miranda would be furious if she found out.

Emily could tell from his well-tailored frock coat, the aubergine waistcoat, and the grey and black striped trousers, that he must be a man of money. Andrea's cook boyfriend had only been an apprentice a few months back, so there was no way he would be able to afford something so _chique _and perfectly in keeping with the theme of the ball. The tip of the walking stick, which he had set aside to be able to dance, was certainly not brass, but a very shiny silver.

She continued watching, almost mesmerised by the connection between them, until the way Andrea's hips pressed into his, as they moved together, roused something in Emily. She abruptly turned around, leaning back against the railing, and clasped a hand to her chest. This was utterly ridiculous! As she felt her heart hammer wildly against her palm, she tried very hard to ignore the little voice in her head that kept chanting that she had just been turned on by Andrea bloody Sachs.

It must have been the fact that she was more than slightly tipsy and hadn't had sex in so long, and watching two people so blatantly courting each other in public must have triggered that shiver she had just felt travel up her spine. Balling her hands into fists, she took a deep breath and turned back toward the dance floor where, to her surprise, Andrea and the mystery man had disappeared. When she spotted them moving toward the exit in the back of the room, Emily was torn between following and simply remaining where she was, preferably forgetting this entire episode.

Nevertheless, something in her heart made her move her feet, and she pulled up her dress as she hurried down the steps, just to see the gentleman holding open the door for the brunette before both of them slipped through it. Adrenaline was beginning to pump through her veins, and Emily knew she was probably going too far, but the idea that her former colleague was sneaking away from a work function, to do god-knows-what with that stranger, kept her legs moving. She followed them into the hallway, careful not to make noise with her high heels on the marble floor, and watched from behind a pillar how they ascended the wide, central staircase.

Emily noticed that he had retrieved his walking stick, tapping it to the floor in practised moves with every step they took, while Andrea had curled an arm under his offered elbow and was whispering excitedly as they disappeared from sight. Everything in the redhead screamed for her to return to the ball room, or, better yet, call a cab and go home. She couldn't, though. If this man was in any way trying to get information out of that gullible girl in order to hurt Miranda, it was Emily's duty to prevent that. Wasn't it?

Convincing herself that she was only doing what was best for her former boss, the redhead carefully climbed the stairs. The upper hallway was dim without the main lights - the rest of the museum not being in use of the time of the ball - and Emily stopped and held her breath to listen. She could faintly make out the clacking of Andrea's heels in the distance, and she carefully walked over to the towering doorway that led to one of the museum's permanent exhibits. She peered around the corner into a vast space full of glass displays that held a multitude of clothing from all sorts of time periods. The brunette and her companion had walked over to an Edwardian ladies gown and matching gentleman's coat, and were whispering quietly, as if they were actually studying the garments.

The space was only lit by the small halogen spotlights that focused on each display, and Emily risked tiptoeing closer and hiding behind two medieval dresses. However, she still couldn't make out anything Andrea and the gentleman were saying. If she wanted to make sure that the brunette was not betraying Miranda's trust, Emily had to sneak further. When the pair suddenly turned to continue to the next items of clothing, the redhead nearly hit the class of the display case in front of her, her depth perception too restricted by the mask. Emily's heart thumped rapidly in her chest. She would definitely need to be more careful!

The gentleman led Andrea around the room, from one historic period to the next, while Emily steadily kept on sneaking closer through the shadows. She still couldn't hear any specific words, but from the sound of the man's voice, it almost appeared as if he were explaining the exhibit to Andrea. His voice was deep and low, sporting a perfectly formal British accent that confirmed Emily's earlier assumption of nobility, or at the very least wealth. As she watched them move through the opposite doorway, she wondered how in the world Andrea Sachs had scored herself a man like that.

She carefully followed out into the hallway to find another flight of stairs. This one was smaller, and a thin chain, spanning from the bottom of the banister to the wall, held a sign that said 'staff only'. It was subtly swinging back and forth, and Emily knew the gentleman must have led her former colleague to the upper floor. Suddenly she was struck by the thought that Andrea might actually be in danger. Why would the stranger take her so far away from the rest of the ball? Surely if they had wanted to get away for a quick snog, they could have just hidden in one of the empty rooms downstairs.

To lower her chance of detection, Emily removed her shoes and left them on the bottom step, before ducking under the chain and slowly making her way up. The next floor was lined with offices that were dark, and appeared empty. The only light in the hallway came from the London skyline, seeping in through the high windows of the quiet rooms to either side. The redhead wondered whether the pair was making out in the dark on one of the desks, but as she slowly walked by, she saw nothing.

Suddenly she heard Andrea's giggle coming from somewhere above her, it was muted and Emily realised that there must be another floor. She continued to walk through the dim light, hoping she wouldn't bump into something, until she reached a door, left ajar, at the end of the corridor. Behind it, a narrow, wooden staircase led up into complete darkness, and Emily had to swallow a lump of anxiety in her throat. She looked around again, making sure that no spooks where lurking in the dark, and hesitantly climbed up.

Emily wished she could just take off her mask. It was restrictive to her vision and she had begun sweating again, making the porcelain rub uncomfortably against her skin. However she knew that, if she were discovered and would need to make a run for it, the mask would protect her identity. A faint shimmer of light lured her further until she reached the top and carefully spied around another opened door.

Illuminated by the London night through arched windows along the entire length of the wall, Emily found the attic of the museum. It appeared to run from one side of the building, all the way to the other, and here and there it was lined with shelves, book cases, crates, and boxes. She wasn't sure which way Andrea and the gentleman had gone, but the soft click of the walking stick being rested against the wall, drew her attention to the right.

Several windows down, she saw the small, darkened shapes of Andrea and her companion, side by side, gazing out over London, before the brunette turned and hopped up onto the window sill. Another shiver travelled down Emily's spine as she watched her former colleague pull the gentleman between her legs and remove his top hat to drop it to the floor. The frock went next and Andrea began unbuttoning his waistcoat. He slid his arms around her waist and simply gazed at the young woman, as she struggled with the buttons and giggled.

Another garment drifted to the floor and Emily couldn't help but smirk when Andrea pulled at one of the suspenders, letting it fall back against the gentleman's chest with a snap. There was a hiss of pain and another wave of giggles, and Emily briefly considered leaving. She was far too entranced, though, and instead of doing the sensible thing, and getting out of there, she sneaked closer and hid behind a crate about thirty feet away from the pair. Very carefully she lowered herself to the floor and resumed her spying from behind the large box.

The man's hands moved up and he very slowly removed Andrea's mask and put it aside while the brunette pulled his suspenders over his shoulders. Her former colleague was back-lit, but Emily recognised Andrea's shimmering doe-eyes that were now gazing up at the man in front of her. He brought his hands to her face, caressing her cheeks and her lips, and the brunette closed her eyes and sighed. It was so intimate that Emily had to hold her breath, for fear of muttering sounds of awe.

Then Andrea reached down to slowly unbutton his trousers, and Emily knew she had no right to be aroused at the sight. The gentleman began gathering the hem of Andrea's dress and slowly pulled it up by sliding his palms over the brunette's slender thighs. It was the most sensual thing Emily had ever seen and she felt herself growing damp. Watching them was so very wrong, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away.

When one of his hands slipped between Andrea's legs, the brunette released a low moan.

"You are so wet, my Dear," he said softly, and the hairs on the back of Emily's neck stood up at the sultry tone of his voice.

_What? She's not even wearing underwear! _The redhead tried to process that information.

His hand kept moving as Andrea leaned her head back against the window, arching up her neck, which he bowed down to and peppered with kisses. Her hands slid under his arms and curled around his shoulders to keep him close as he kept stroking through her wetness. Emily could actually hear it, and although the obscenity of it should have grossed her out, she couldn't escape the pleasant hum it caused in her own body.

The former assistant watched on as the mystery man used his other hand to slip under Andrea's knee and pull up her leg to wrap it around his hip, granting him better access. Then suddenly the brunette gasped, and from the way Andrea's body began to undulate, Emily knew he was penetrating her with his fingers. His movements were slow and gentle and the brunette moved her hips to sensually welcome each of his thrusts.

"Oh god... yes," Andrea moaned, and Emily felt almost like crying from the intense physical reaction that held her own body hostage.

"I would say that you're ready, my love, don't you think?" He said, and it sounded so loving that Emily was convinced that they must have known each other before this night. Her heart ached at the tenderness in his voice, and she yearned for someone to be that sweet to her as well. How did a man like that even exist?

Andrea nodded and helped pull down his trousers to his knees, revealing long, white underpants. He had certainly not dressed for the costume ball half-heartedly, even his underwear was perfectly in keeping with the theme. Emily wanted to snicker, but got distracted when the brunette's hand fumbled with the front opening of the offending garment. For a moment the redhead wished that her former colleague would pull down his pants to reveal his backside, but the idea of Andrea's hand closing around his manhood through the flap of the Long-Johns was just as stimulating.

"Oh god," Andrea whispered breathlessly as she pulled, and although there was barely enough light, Emily could make out the faint shape of what was definitely a large penis. She had to really force herself to not gasp out loud.

The gentleman stepped closer, still looking almost regal - even with his trousers down to his knees and his long underwear slightly sagging off his butt under the tails of his starched shirt - and he embraced the young woman and drew her in for a kiss. Emily kept on watching and her heart raced almost painfully, her blood thumping through her ears. She was an intruder, spying on something that was obviously mutual and more than just a quick shag, but she found that she was much too horny to be able to stealthily sneak off. So her only option was to remain where she was and do anything to keep quiet.

The pair was now tightly slung around each other and Andrea reached up to carefully remove his mask. The angle, however, still made it hard for Emily to see his face. When he leaned his forehead to Andrea's, Emily could make out the twirled shape of a typical Victorian moustache, that had been hiding behind the mask, and Andrea giggled as she traced it to both ends, following the curl with her finger.

"What?" He asked.

"It kind of looks ridiculous," Andrea whispered with another giggle.

"Should I remove it?"

"No! Leave it," Andrea hastily said and she pulled him in for another kiss, that quickly grew deeper.

His hands slipped between them, and from the movement of his arm, Emily could tell that his fingers had returned between Andrea's legs. The brunette moaned into the kiss as he kept fondling her, his movements still slow and controlled, until finally the brunette reached down between his legs. Their lips parted, but their foreheads leaned against each other when their eyes locked, and then Andrea carefully guided him to her entrance. Their movement was incredibly slow, but suddenly the brunette released a loud moan and threw her head back against the window, while he looked down to watch himself slide deeper inside her, his face cast in shadows.

"Oh god... oh holy... ohhh..." Andrea moaned, and she tightly grabbed at his back.

"Am I hurting you, Darling?" His voice was so soft.

"Oh god, no... please... keep going," she sighed.

Emily thought she was about to die in her corner behind the crate. Despite everything she had ever believed to be good and right, her hand had found its way between her legs, and she slowly rubbed herself through her lace panties. She could feel the heat and moisture against her palm, and her body was burning up under the thick velvet of her dress.

The mystery man began thrusting into Andrea at a languid pace, and he lowered his mouth to the crook of the young woman's neck, where he kissed and suckled. His face was still shielded from Emily's view this way, but she had long stopped caring about who he might be. The image of Andrea Sachs, being oh so tenderly fucked by this dreamy man had completely locked Emily in a spell, and all she could think about was that she needed some kind of release.

Loud, sloppy noises of their joining echoed across the attic, and both of them breathed heavily, moaning with every roll of their hips. Andrea's hands were digging into his butt, pulling him forcefully exactly to where she needed, and his movement picked up in speed, venturing from slow and gentle to fast and forceful.

"Oh god... yes, Baby..." the brunette hissed between moans, their groins slapping together, the sound almost sending Emily over the edge.

"Oh, Jesus... Miranda!" Andrea cried out, and Emily abruptly froze, fingers rigid against her own flesh.

"Yes, that's it, my Darling. Come for me... now!"

The young woman let out a loud, wailing moan as she shuddered and writhed in her lover's arms, and the redhead watched in a state of mortified shock as the 'gentleman' arched 'his' own head back in ecstasy, 'his' voice suddenly a few octaves higher as 'he' climaxed as well.

"_Andréa..._"

There, in the dim light, Emily could finally see 'his' profile. A profile she should have recognised even beneath the mask and fake moustache. That characteristic nose was so hard to miss. How had she not seen it? Her chest burned with enormous pain at the sight of Miranda leaning back down to cradle a still panting Andrea tenderly in her arms, holding her tightly and swaying the assistant gently from side to side.

"Hmmm... Darling," the older woman spoke softly into the brunette's neck. "Was that everything you had imagined?"

"Ugh, so much better, Mira," the younger woman sighed and snuggled against her lover's chest. "I can't... even..." She breathed hard.

Miranda began stroking through Andrea's hair and then bend her head down to kiss her sweetly on the lips. "I love you, Andréa."

The brunette giggled and reached up to peel off the fake Victorian moustache. "I love you, too," she answered sincerely, "but this thing is totally ridiculous!"

The editor snorted, and Emily felt silent tears run down her masked cheeks at their unexpected playfulness and declarations of love.

"It was _your _idea, you silly girl."

"Hmmm... true." Andrea ran her hand through the older woman's short, brown hair. "I do like the wig, though. The colour really suits you."

They kissed again and the redhead really wanted to get away. If she had known that the mysterious gentleman was actually Miranda in drag, she would have never followed them. She was definitely not aroused any more. Instead, her body buzzed with hurt and anger at her own stupidity. Carefully, she rose from the floor and tiptoed toward the stairs. Andrea's giggles and Miranda's content humming were making her sick and she knew she had to escape before her sobs could overwhelm her.

As soon as she was past the office floor and had grabbed her shoes at the bottom of the 'staff only' stairs, she ripped off the porcelain disguise and made a run for it, not caring if anyone saw her storming through the main hallway and out into the street.

When she finally sat safely in the back of a cab, she dropped her face into her palms and forced herself to take long, steadying breaths. Who would have thought? _Miranda Priestly and Andrea... bloody... Sachs! _Emily massaged her temples and came to the conclusion that as soon as she got home, she would need to open that cheap bottle of rum and whip her former drinking skills back into shape. Images of the two women moving together, tightly slung in their erotic dance in front of the London evening sky, were still burning in her mind, and the redhead knew she would definitely need more alcohol to make it through the night.

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning:** Rear end fun. Yes, I know most people don't put warnings for this, but I guess I write in so much detail that a warning is needed... ^_^;

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

Miranda raised her head, alarmed. "Did you hear something?"

Andrea looked up from where her fingers were playing with the older woman's bow tie, her mocha eyes blazing. "Uh... no... did you?"

"I'm not sure..."

They peered into the darkness and listened for a few seconds, but the only noises they picked up were the occasional evening traffic on the wet London streets below, and the cooing of a few pigeons on the roof above them.

"Hmmm," the editor-in-chief turned her attention back to the beautiful woman in her arms. "I must truly be getting old," she said with the lightest of snorts. "My ears are playing tricks on me."

Andrea giggled and, with a strong tug at the back of Miranda's neck, pulled her in for another kiss.

The strap-on was still buried within the younger woman, and while their tongues began to tenderly stroke in post-coital caresses, Miranda gently withdrew the toy, shuddering as the brunette moaned with every inch that slid out of her. Flooded with a strange, uncharacteristic feeling of embarrassment, the older woman gingerly slipped the rubber appendage into the underpants of her costume, and Andrea, sensing her slight awkwardness, grinned against her lips.

"Is it warm and wet against your thigh now, my love?"

Miranda groaned when she felt the brunette's hand stroke the shaft through the thin cotton fabric, pressing it against her skin, and smearing her slippery essence over her leg. The thought alone, that the residual warmth and stickiness came directly from inside Andrea's very core, caused renewed ripples of pleasure to cascade toward her abdomen. Of course she knew they were far from finished for the night, but for the moment she would have to restrain herself.

She stepped back and sheepishly reached down to pull her trousers back up. Andrea watched, her features hidden in shadows, but those eyes, that had always possessed a surprisingly strong hold on her, followed her every move almost hungrily. The older woman left the striped slacks unbuttoned and allowed the suspenders to hang loosely down her sides, leaving the tails of her starched shirt to messily cover her backside. With both hands she grabbed the hem of the brunette's gown and tugged the garment back over her creamy thighs.

Andrea released a disappointed sigh, but allowed the older woman to help her down from the window sill. It was a bit of a challenge not to smirk at the brunette's reaction, but Miranda knew that playing it cool now, would only reward her later. She grasped one of Andrea's hands and turned her around until they were both facing the night skyline. Pulling her lover against herself with a strong arm around her slender middle, the editor reached for the rusty handle in front of them and opened the window.

Although it was early June, rain had washed away most of the gentle pre-summer air, and a chilling breeze lifted the younger woman's dark chocolate locks. Miranda closed her eyes as she fully embraced the brunette, and she basked in the wonderful mixture of the moist London night, the smell of old, damp wood, and the familiar and comforting scent of Andrea's shampoo. Warm hands slipped over her arms, pulling them together more firmly, and the editor began to sway the brunette gently from side to side as the wind picked up and brushed over them with a freshness that made Miranda feel lightheaded.

Suddenly the tune of the Cambridge Chimes rang from a distance, the sound waves carried all the way from the Thames by the steady breeze, and Miranda tenderly nuzzled her lover's neck and then kissed her soundly on the cheek.

"Happy Birthday, Darling."

The younger woman sighed happily and snuggled back into the embrace.

Miranda was a bit shorter without her customary heels, so she stood on her toes as she bend forward and captured Andrea's sweet mouth in a loving kiss. The angle wasn't the best, but at that moment, nothing in the world could have made the older woman let go of the wonderful creature within her embrace. They rubbed the tips of their noses together and the brunette smiled.

"Is that the Big Ben?"

The evenly paced strokes echoed across the roof tops, as if to only ring for the two of them, who gazed out into the night from their window, hidden from the people below, but welcoming the world. It almost startled Miranda to find herself longing to shout out into the wind, her heart so full of love at that very moment.

"Yes, it is, Darling. It's a beautiful sound, don't you think?"

Andrea nodded and tilted her head back onto the editor's shoulder. They stood like this until the twelfth stroke had come and gone, leaving a surreal blanket of sudden stillness hanging over the city. Now it was officially night. Time for creatures of the underworld to feast, wasn't it? Miranda smirked into her lover's silken hair.

"So... what do you think of your Special Day so far?" She asked, stroking her palms over Andrea's corseted belly.

"Hmmm," the brunette hummed happily. "Absolutely spectacular! I still can't believe you made my fantasy come true. It's the best birthday present anyone has ever given me."

Gripped by apprehension and not a little amount of mischief, Miranda rolled her hips forward into Andrea soft backside and purred, "so you enjoyed our new little friend?"

"Ugh, god yes!" The brunette groaned and welcomed the older woman's movement with a push of her own. "Please tell me we're keeping it."

The editor chuckled and brushed her nose over the back of her lover's neck. "Of course, Darling. It's part of your gift." She tenderly kissed along Andrea's spine. "However... our little... 'warming up' just now," her hands wandered over the younger woman's hips. "That wasn't your gift yet. Your birthday only began a mere two minutes ago."

Andrea gasped when Miranda's hands slipped over her sides. "Oh?"

"M-hmmm," the editor confirmed. "I seem to remember your actual fantasy involving... positioning... of an altogether different kind."

Her lover shivered.

"What was it that you said?" Miranda brought a few inches of space between their middles and slowly began hitching Andrea's dress back up. "You wanted me to sweep you off your feet like a true prince charming..." She licked her lips. "I would say that was successful."

Andrea nodded quickly, more shivers of anticipation rolling over her skin. "Oh yes! Definitely a success."

The back of the brunette's calves were revealed in the dim light, and Miranda nearly sighed at the beautiful lines of four-inch heels and Andrea's lower legs.

"And you wished for me to be... 'well-endowed', as you so eloquently put it.'"

The younger woman's legs shook and Miranda let her fingertips graze the back of Andrea's thighs as she pulled the dress even higher.

"I think we can agree... I am quite satisfactory in that department as well."

Her lover was breathing hard, her outline against the night sky heaving with excitement and apprehension, and the fashion maven drank in the feeling of power that flooded through her from the effect her words alone were having on Andrea. Using toys was a new addition to their love-making, and at first Miranda had been rather sceptical, firmly believing that she was perfectly capable of pleasuring the younger woman well enough with her own hands and mouth.

After that night of blissful, sleepy pillow talk a few weeks ago, however, when they had shared with each other their deepest sexual fantasies, Andrea had ignited quite an amount of inspiration within the older woman. The fact, that the brunette's vivid imagination had struck a few hidden desires of her own, had been an added bonus.

Miranda took a step to the left, angling herself toward Andrea's side and pulling the Victorian ball gown the final inches upward, until it revealed the wonderful, round globes of the younger woman's ass.

There was a gasp and the editor knew that her lover was feeling the cool night breeze against her still moist flesh. She stepped into the brunette, pinning the bunched-up garment between them, as she pressed herself against Andrea's side and pulled her closer with her left arm around her middle. Her right hand began a languid exploration of the brunette's supple backside, and as her palm drew warm circles over the goose bumps, she welcomed Andrea's head against her shoulder.

With the back of her left hand she tenderly caressed that long, arched neck, which had haunted so many of her dreams before they had finally admitted their feelings for each other, six months ago. Miranda still remembered the first time she had been able to close her lips around the smooth skin just under Andrea's jaw bone, and how she had known then, that no one else would ever be able to compare. Pulled by the memories, she leaned forward and latched onto the muscle between shoulder and throat, and she slowly intensified the strokes of her right hand.

Andrea swayed in her arms, her palms propped flat against the wood of the window sill, and her eyes closed as she gave herself over to Miranda.

"And then," the editor spoke softly between licks and nibbles, "you mentioned something," her hand slipped dangerously close to the area between Andrea's legs, "about bending you over..."

The brunette moaned.

"... and having my way with you..."

Miranda's left palm slid down over the younger woman's shoulder, her arm, and toward her hip, where she gripped tightly.

"... from behind."

She could almost feel her own knees buckle at the way Andrea turned to jelly within her grip. Her lips against her lover's throat felt the vibrations of the low groan that caused the brunette to roll back her head and push her backside into Miranda's touch.

"Mira..."

"Shh, my Darling, let me take care of you now."

Having Andrea securely locked against herself, Miranda began to carefully knead the smooth flesh of a buttock in her palm. The brunette shakily widened her stance and whimpered when the editor's fingers dug into softness and pulled the butt cheek to the side.

"Oh..." the brunette gasped and she pushed against the hand, arching her lower back as she tilted her hips.

There was something incredibly precious about the way Andrea offered herself. Her trust in Miranda was unconditional, something the older woman had never experienced before. People in general were always suspicious of the fashion queen. Constantly looking for weaknesses, ulterior motives and ways to gain an advantage. Everyone was on guard around her, and especially her ex-husbands and past lovers had refused to make even the slightest of concessions to accommodate her needs. They had been battling for dominance over her, wishing to break the strong persona she was, finding triumph in their conquest.

Andrea was different. She was, of course, far from passive when they were intimate, but due to the fact that they had begun their relationship with a basis of total honesty and mutual trust, the younger woman had never felt the need to struggle for dominance. And although it would seem that the editor quite often tended to have the upper hand, deep down they both knew that by completely surrendering to her lover, Andrea actually wielded the strongest power of all. The power over Miranda's heart.

No longer able to restrain herself, the older woman allowed her hand to slip between her lover's thighs, and she found her almost dripping.

"Oh god... oh... Mira..."

"Darling..."

A delicious current of electricity rippled over her skin when she felt her fingers melt into slick warmth. Stroking through Andrea's folds, when she was ready like this, was one of Miranda's most secret pleasures. The physical proof of how much the younger woman desired her often surprised the fashion maven, pleasantly so, and it had roused urges inside the editor, she hadn't even thought possible to possess.

"Andrea," she leaned close to her lover's ear. "I'm going to take you now... in a way no one ever has before."

The younger woman shivered and undulated against Miranda's gentle hand. There was so much moisture, and the editor easily slipped three fingers into Andrea.

"Ohh..." they both gasped at how they melted together, the heat fusing them into one single being, and to ease the intensity, Miranda slowly withdrew her hand and painted her lover's arousal along the length of the slit between her legs, before diving back inside, with a teasing, languid thrust. She kept her palm flat to ensure that her knuckles would stretch Andrea just the way she liked it, and she was rewarded with another roll of the brunette's hips and a content moan.

They repeated their motions, Miranda gathering the younger woman's essence and smearing it out, down over the inside of her thighs and up the beginning pillows of her buttocks, and Andrea continued to push out her ass, stepping back as she lowered her upper body, shoulder blades rising sharply against the city lights, her spine dipping into a beautiful curve.

When she was confident to have gathered enough lubrication, she stepped fully back behind Andrea and pulled the younger woman's hips into position with a firm, but loving tug.

"Ready, my Darling?"

"Always..." Andrea moaned with a hiss.

And with one final swipe through the moisture, Miranda brought her right index finger to the puckered opening, which she circled carefully, spreading more of the brunette's arousal. It wasn't the first time she would touch her Andrea there, but their current situation made it extra special. She felt on top of the world, the quiet night before her like an audience, watching as she was about to claim what was hers. The breeze picked up, twirling Andrea's hair where her head hung low between her shoulders, and Miranda was struck by the ethereal image.

Overcome by love for this beautiful creature before her, who gave herself to the queen of fashion so freely, Miranda pushed the tip of her finger inside with utmost care. The brunette's guttural groan was carried off by the wind, and encouraged by the thrust of the younger woman's hips, Miranda gently dove deeper. Her lover was hot and very tight, but the abundance of moisture made her finger glide with ease.

"Oh god... Mira..." Andrea whimpered. "That is so, so good..."

The editor began turning her wrist and sliding the digit out and back in, while she took her time to caress every bit of skin along the way. The brunette's forehead landed on the window sill with a thud and Miranda felt the erratic contractions of the ring muscle around her finger.

"Shh, my Darling. Relax," she whispered, stroking her left hand soothingly up and down Andrea's back.

"Uh... Mira... I... I want more..."

The invitation wasn't necessary because a second digit was already perched at the entrance, and with the next languid thrust, Miranda pushed in both, her index and middle finger, feeling the tissue around her stretch the further she went.

"Ugh," Andrea welcomed her with another grind of her hips, her legs opening even wider as she offered more for Miranda to take. She looked vulnerable and so completely trusting, and the older woman felt a sudden urge to protect the brunette, to cradle and hold her. She stepped as close as possible, allowing her groin to press firmly against the back of Andrea's thighs. Her two fingers picked up a slow, steady rhythm, entering her lover with a slight screwing motion and she curled the digits when she withdrew, so she could caress the ring muscle and urge it to relax.

The younger woman's breath quickened and she whimpered as Miranda pushed just that little bit deeper with every thrust. The editor's left hand wandered from Andrea's back toward her hip, only to slip around and over a smooth thigh, where it pushed away more of the dress and slowly made its way toward the brunette's belly. Without hesitating, Miranda allowed that hand to slip between her lover's folds and she gasped in surprise at the flood that greeted her.

Maybe it was the fresh air, perhaps the role play had done its part, but the fashion maven was sure she had never felt Andrea this wet before.

"My, my... Andrea... you're making quite the mess..." she whispered sensually, drawing her left fingers through the slickness, while her hips and right hand kept their steady pace.

"Ngh... your... ohh... fault..." the brunette mumbled shakily, and the editor felt her chest glow with a sense of pride that she, Miranda Priestly, had accomplished to put this beautiful young woman into such a state of ecstasy. She began rubbing against Andrea's clit, passing by it with two fingers, barely touching, but caressing the sensitive areas surrounding it, before drawing back and brushing her nails flat across the hardening bundle of nerves. She tried to dip her fingers down and into the source of wetness, but the angle wasn't right and she couldn't push further than up to the second joint.

It left her feeling a bit frustrated, because she wanted to take her Andrea completely, as had been her lover's fantasy, and quite honestly her own as well. Her hips ground hard into the brunette's backside and she felt the length of the strap-on get pressed into her own thigh.

Oh.

Andrea groaned in protest when Miranda withdrew her left hand, moved away her hips, and the other two fingers stilled their movement deep within. The editor quickly pulled at her trousers, tugging them down to her knees, and this time she also grabbed the ridiculous underpants, no longer caring about playing a role. All that mattered was that she wanted to feel as much of Andrea as possible. The air was cool against her own backside and her thighs, her skin sore from the tight straps of the harness, but she didn't mind.

Quickly she stepped back between her lover's thighs, connecting their bodies as completely as she could, rejoicing in the feel of skin against skin, and Andrea moaned as the length of the thick rubber shaft pressed in her folds.

"God yes... Mira... please!"

This was it, the ultimate feeling of authority. Having the younger woman at her complete mercy, begging to be filled, was so exhilarating, Miranda almost wanted to cry from joy. It wasn't the kind of power she held in the fashion industry, it wasn't something born from fear or loathing. No. This was created by both of them, mutually. The sense of responsibility this enormous amount of love and trust evoked was equally as strong, and Miranda was fired up by the need to take care of her Andrea, to give her exactly what she wanted and what she needed.

Gently she restarted her right hand's movements, index and middle finger slowly pumping in and out of the puckered opening. With her left hand she held the strap-on to Andrea's core, using the tip to brush between the slick folds and gathering moisture along the way.

Her lover almost appeared to be flowing with lust, her clothed back moving in waves as she undulated against the editor, the bunched up fabric of the dress ruffling quietly with each movement. Miranda placed the head of the toy between the younger woman's inner lips and held still.

"Andrea,... push back now."

She held her breath when the brunette allowed the rubber appendage to slowly sink into her. There was barely any resistance, the younger woman being so obscenely wet and still stretched from their earlier coupling, but with her right index and middle finger, Miranda could feel the wall between her lover's two inner channels stretch as the phallus moved deeper.

They both released one long, steady moan until the editor was all the way inside, their thighs touching, hips pressing together.

"Oh god... oh god... oh god..." Andrea whimpered, her body rigid for a moment to adjust to all the sensations. Miranda could barely believe how wonderful it felt. Of course the strap-on wasn't part of her nervous system, however the two fingers buried so snugly between her lover's buttocks picked up all the subtle movements, the heat and the flurry of tiny muscle spasms. She was completely filling her Andrea, and the sense of possession and adoration almost overwhelmed her.

Lovingly she began to move her hand again, slowly withdrawing and then driving back in with a twist. The younger woman welcomed the action with backward thrusts that had her impale herself further on the rubber shaft.

"Yessss..." she hissed when Miranda began a rhythmic play between the toy and her fingers, pulling at her hand when her hips thrust forward, and penetrating her lover's ass deeply while sliding the strap-on nearly all the way out. The tandem sensations had Andrea writhing and mumble incoherent gibberish as the editor carefully picked up the pace.

There was nothing that could have ever prepared Miranda for this glorious moment. Not even in her wildest dreams had she ever imaged herself fucking a woman half her age from behind above the London roof tops, but at that very moment, it was the only thing that defined her. Andrea's pleasure was all that mattered, and Miranda could almost taste the power in the air like ozone right before lightning.

She was tempted to reach around her lover with her free hand and gently slide against her bundle of nerves, but she knew tonight she was going to bring both of them over the edge just like this, uninhibited and raw. They would both surrender to this feeling and it would stay with them forever.

Andrea's knuckles were white where she gripped the window sill firmly, her body from side to side almost in a trance, and to prevent her from falling over, the editor slipped her free arm around the younger woman's middle, holding her up as best as she could. The ring muscle began to clamp down on her fingers and Miranda knew her love was close. The way Andrea's body sucked at her caused the first few ripples of her own climax to buzz between her legs, and the older woman hardened her thrusts to increase the delicious friction of the harness against her clit.

Her lover's motions became erratic, until finally Andrea squeezed around her hard, while releasing a deeply rooted groan that triggered Miranda's own release. Their groins frantically slapped together as wave after wave swept through them, and the editor had to bite her bottom lip to not cry out from the overwhelming pleasure.

She gradually stilled her movements, leaving them locked tightly together, and with her chest ablaze with affection, she collapsed forward to hug herself to Andrea. They remained like this, breaths heavy, limps unmovable, and simply basked in the low hum of the afterglow together. The rhythm, with which the younger woman's back rose and fell, eventually calmed, and with a sweet kiss to the nape of Andrea's neck, Miranda carefully withdrew her fingers, loving the way her lover clung to her, and instantly missing her warmth.

"Mira..." the brunette sighed and reached back with one hand to hug the editor closer to herself. She didn't say anything else, and Miranda knew that words would fail at this moment. Nothing could describe what they had just shared. Gently, she pushed at Andrea's hips, urging them forward, and bringing her lover slowly into an upright position, while carefully sliding the rubber toy out of her. It was completely drenched in the younger woman's juice, and for a moment Miranda felt almost regretful that it wasn't the real deal. What would it feel like to have Andrea surrounding her like that?

On unsteady legs, the younger woman turned on her heels and their eyes locked in the darkness. Swiftly, their bodies reconnected in a tight embrace, arms closing almost painfully around each other's backs, as they melted into each other.

"Mira..." Andrea sighed into the older woman's neck, and Miranda felt her entire body buzz with love and wonder for this extraordinary creature. She rocked the brunette gently back and forth, nuzzling her throat while she pulled the dress back down over her beautiful butt. The wind picked up again, bringing fresh air to their starved lungs, and Miranda grinned against Andrea's neck when the cool breeze drew her attention to the mess between her own legs.

Andrea's hands glided down the back of the starched shirt and curled under the crisp tails to cup the editor's butt. Her fingertips traced the straps of the harness and she tenderly kissed Miranda's throat.

"Thank you..." she whispered.

"You're very welcome, Darling," the editor replied softly, squeezing the younger woman tightly.

They tilted back their faces to gaze at one another in the dark grey of the night, until Andrea leaned in and pressed her full lips tenderly to Miranda's. They kissed lazily for a while, until the older woman began to shiver.

"I'm getting rather chilly, my Love," she began, but Andrea interrupted her with a full squeeze to both her buttocks, and a giggle.

"That's because your bum is nekkid!"

Fighting the urge to laugh, the editor pulled away and looked blankly at her lover. "After all this time, your skill of stating the obvious still astounds me, Andrea."

The brunette just smirked and reached down to pull up the cotton underpants. Her eyes never leaving Miranda's, she deposited the strap-on back behind the thin layer of fabric and proceeded to tug the striped trousers into place. The hem of the starched shirt was neatly tucked away, and the younger woman buttoned up the fly and pulled the suspenders back to the editor's shoulders.

Something about being dressed by Andrea, after what they had just experienced together, felt so domestic and incredibly right, that Miranda found herself fighting a burn in her eyes she seldom had to face. Her waist coat was draped around her, and within less than a minute, the editor was completely and properly dressed. The brunette held out the earlier discarded mask, but Miranda shook her head.

No. No more hiding.

"Leave them," she said, shifting her top hat into place. "Let them remain as a reminder of this night."

Andrea smiled and nodded, before closing the window and setting the porcelain masks onto the window sill, side by side, looking out over London. She then reached for the walking stick and turned back to Miranda.

"Uhm... is there a place up here where you can wash your hands?" She asked a bit sheepishly.

"No need, my Love," the editor replied, a smirk playing on her lips. "I came prepared."

She pulled a pair of black leather gloves from her frock coat pocket and slipped them on, wiggling her fingers when she was done.

"This way... I can keep you on me for a while longer," she drawled.

"Miranda!" Andrea squeaked in embarrassment, and the editor grinned at the fact that despite everything they had done, the younger woman still became shy after sex. It was utterly adorable.

"Come here," Miranda held out her arm. "Let's get to the hotel."

After a final attempt to shake some of the creases from her dress, Andrea curled her arm around the offered elbow, and grasping the walking stick tightly with her fingers, Miranda led them toward the staircase.

"So... is this going to be a birthday tradition now?" The brunette asked cheekily as they descended through the darkness.

Miranda had certainly gotten a taste of something she had every intention of savouring again.

"Maybe," she replied in her typical, bored voice, but she knew that Andrea would be able to pick out the smirk on her lips.

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><p>To be continued...<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning:** Detailed food smex. Uhm... yeah.  
><strong>Summary:<strong>Forecast for today: Torrential smut rains with the occasional plot shining through the fluff.

**Note:** _Nope, still no beta, but I'm building up the courage to finally ask for one. So my next fic will be beta-read. In the mean time, please read over all my mistakes and enjoy le smut! xD_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

Andy woke to a feeling of luxury. Her skin slid over smooth satin as she slowly flexed her spine and languidly shuffled her bare hips back into the mattress. Her shoulders and chest felt a bit cold, and she knew Miranda must have stolen the covers again, but her abdomen and thighs were deliciously warm. Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked against the bright light that flooded their suite.

They had both been too tired to worry about the curtains the previous night, and now the sun took the opportunity to steal through the tall windows and dip everything in a rich golden glow. Its warm rays fell directly across Andy's midsection, and the brunette smiled at waking up to such a dreamy morning on her twenty-seventh birthday.

She turned her head toward her lover's peaceful form that lay curled up under the stolen bedsheets. It still astounded Andy every time she woke next to the older woman how innocent Miranda looked in her sleep. Her beautiful face was relaxed, worry lines softened by even the shortest amount of rest, and her features were devoid of the usual tightness around her eyes. Andy had made a habit of studying Miranda in these private moments, something that filled her with even more love for the extraordinary woman.

The curve of Miranda's hip heaved slowly with each breath she took, and the brunette bit her bottom lip in adoration of the older woman's soft, little snores. The snowy hair, now freed from the wig, had the brunette's finger's itching to tenderly brush it away from that pretty face, and the hint of cleavage under the satin sheets, was entirely too enticing. Andy couldn't bring herself to wake her sleeping beauty, though, and instead she remained still and simply watched.

Their relationship still sometimes baffled her. More than half a year ago they had sat side by side in a hotel suite in Paris, words failing them as their eyes had done the talking. Andy had abandoned her dinner with Christian Thompson, after finding out about the plot to dethrone Miranda, and had rushed back to the editor to warn her. Earlier that evening, the older woman's husband had called to divorce her, leaving Miranda shaken and worried about the effect that would have on her daughters. So Andy had hurried through the streets of Paris, knowing that losing Runway on top of facing another public separation, would have been a devastating blow to her boss.

She had sped to the editor's hotel room to find Miranda tipsy and teary-eyed on the sofa, still dressed in the wonderful gown from her earlier business dinner, but with a slump to her shoulders that had made her look defeated and old. Andy had known then, that she would do anything for this woman. The crush she had been nurturing for the queen of fashion had somewhere along the lines been transformed into deep affection, and when she had sat down next to the older woman and had begun to relay what Christian had revealed in his self-centred boasting spree, Miranda had looked at her intently with a new kind of glow in her eyes.

They had only talked that night. The editor had confided in Andy with her plans to save her position, and although Miranda's slightly intoxicated state might have had something to do with the ease with which they conversed, they had gradually drifted into one of those comfortable midnight talks that two kindred spirits sometimes shared. They had grazed nearly every subject, from deeply personal revelations to discussions about arts and literature that had made the younger woman's head spin. At five in the morning they had both rested their head back against the couch, and exhausted from their conversation, they had simply stared at one another.

Since that night something had changed between them, and Andy had been happy to notice that Miranda hadn't seemed to want to fight that change. Their interactions had then become increasingly personal, until the night before Christmas at the empty town house, when Miranda had grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her.

Andy had remained the editor-in-chief's assistant, even after they had admitted their feelings for each other. As a result, they had developed an almost eerily efficient work routine, that had stirred plenty of whispers and raised eyebrows from the rest of Runway's staff. Granted, Andy had proven a competent employee even before - her assumed unrequited affinity for Miranda aiding her constant quest to please the older woman. Now that they knew each other as lovers, however, the brunette could anticipate the older woman's needs even before a single word was uttered. She could flawlessly read Miranda's body language and they often communicated with their eyes alone.

Occasionally Andy wondered if their co-workers suspected anything. Of course her and Miranda had always been discrete, but it wasn't unheard of for two people in love to carry an air about them that gave them away. And in love they were.

She smiled as she watched Miranda stir, the older woman's nose scrunching up so adorably as she turned on her back, lips sliding together in a hint of a pout, before she stilled again and continued sleeping. The brunette knew that she had to get away or else she would pounce on her lover, a wake-up call Miranda most likely wouldn't appreciate.

Andy sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, where she sheepishly scratched her stomach and then stretched her arms high above her head. She felt a bit sore, but it sparked detailed memories of their previous night's love making, which had been utterly mind-blowing. Miranda in Victorian drag had been a dream come true for Andy. It had emphasised all of Miranda's power and sophistication, and although Andy couldn't get enough of the older woman in beautiful, low-cut gowns and impossibly high heels, the moment she had spotted Miranda in her frock coat with that bow tie and walking stick, she had been under a spell.

Her stomach growled as she padded over the fancy carpet and into the sitting room. She made sure that the door behind her was closed, when she reached for the phone and dialled room service. It was quarter past eight and Miranda had a free morning, before she would meet with a photographer at noon, so they could indulge in a drawn-out breakfast.

Andy had been a bit disappointed that the editor had scheduled a work lunch on her birthday, but after the previous night she definitely had no reason to complain. Besides, Miranda wouldn't just postpone their return to New York for a day, just to spend that time only with Andy. The editor-in-chief was, before all else, a workaholic, and the brunette knew and had accepted that.

After placing her order, she hung up the phone and looked around the suite for something to wear. She had plans that would make getting fully dressed redundant, but she didn't really want to flash whoever was going to bring up breakfast. Her eyes fell on Miranda's shirt, which lay draped over the arm rest of one of the chairs, and she picked it up, running her fingertips over the stiff fabric. It still smelled of her lover and she noticed a smudge of her own lipstick on the collar that made her smile when she slipped the garment over her shoulders.

She buttoned up, checking in the mirror that the shirt was long enough to decently cover her, when she spotted the discarded bow tie on the chest of drawers below. With a smirk she began tying it, remembering learning how by helping her brother get dressed on his wedding day. When she was done, she tugged it into place and regarded her reflection.

It wasn't a habit of hers to truly look at herself in mirrors. Before she had worked at Runway, she had only ever looked fleetingly, knowing that her clothes didn't match, but that she couldn't afford anything else, or she had been trying to avoid looking at her flaws, her raggedy hair, and her pale complexion. Once she had jumped into the cold waters of the fashion industry, she had begun dressing and styling herself, spending a lot of time checking her new self out, but she had never dared to look beneath the surface, aware of how different she had become, her outward appearance not matching her inner self.

Not until her and Miranda had gotten together, had Andy been able to look into her own face without flinching. She wasn't just Andy the clumsy geek turned fashion princess, no, she was Andrea, a talented and unique individual, a beautiful woman, and a cherished lover. She had started to see herself through Miranda's eyes and had finally begun to embrace who she truly was.

There was a knock at the door and Andy hurried to answer before the noise could wake the editor. She didn't even feel embarrassed about her bare legs and messy hair when the little trolley was wheeled in.

"You can leave that here. Thank you," she dismissed the blushing waiter with a smile and picked up the tray, before carefully opening the door to the bedroom. To her relief, Miranda was still sound asleep. Andy sunk her feet slowly into the carpet with each step, fearing for her natural clumsiness to interfere with her plans. So much for being suave and romantic if Miranda woke up covered in sticky fruit and scalding coffee, to find her young lover sprawled on the floor.

She managed to safely place the food on her side of the bed, and confident that her lover hadn't heard a thing, she squatted down and opened her suitcase. The box with the harness had been neatly tucked away in the bottom and she dug for it with giddy anticipation. It was difficult to suppress her giggles as she fastened the straps around her thighs and backside. Kneeling on the lush carpet of Miranda Priestly's two-thousand-dollar-a-night hotel suite, while grabbing a large rubber phallus and attaching it to her abdomen, felt utterly ridiculous.

As soon as she felt the toy's weight against her thigh, though, Andy was suddenly gripped by a new sense of sexual prowess. It was odd, but for some reason, donning this silly contraption had immediately boosted her confidence. Rising from the floor she turned and smiled thoughtfully at her resting lover. Had Miranda felt like this all of the previous night? Andy blushed as she remembered how strange, yet enticing Miranda's fake accent had been. It had been dripping with charm and determination. A shiver ran down the brunette's spine and she looked down and gently brushed her fingertips over the length of the rubber shaft.

If she could make Miranda feel only half as good as she had felt with the toy inside her, her life would be complete.

"Mira..." she whispered, crawling carefully over the mattress toward Miranda's sleeping form. "Wake up, my love."

"Hmf," came a muffled reply, and Andy smirked when she stretched out alongside her lover. She reached up to tenderly stroke Miranda's cheek, before tickling the tip of that long, elegant nose. Miranda frowned and tried to turn away, but Andy resumed the feather light caresses down to her throat.

"There is coffee," Andy whispered, and as predicted the older woman's eyes blinked open almost instantly.

"Hi," the brunette grinned at her lover.

"You better be serious, Andrea," Miranda said hoarsely, while narrowing her gaze.

Andy knew that being playful with the editor in private was totally fine, when it came to the presence of caffeine, however, she had learned to never joke. Making sure the shirt covered the harness, she turned and reached for the food behind her. Miranda sat up, allowing the sheets to pool around her middle and Andy nearly dropped the silver tray at the beautiful sight.

"Oh, Jesus!"

A superior smirk was all she got in reply, and she managed to set the food down on her lover's lap without too much of a tremble. She had missed Miranda's breasts, as they had been bound and hidden the previous night to complete the illusion. Now, as she watched them rise and fall in all their glory with her lover's even breaths, Andy knew that no matter how sexy Miranda looked in drag, she would always prefer something that showed off the older woman's cleavage.

"The hotel doesn't have Starbucks," she spoke softly, trying to pry her eyes away from Miranda's chest, "but I've done some research and the beans they use are of the highest quality."

"Hmmm," Miranda reached for the cup and and brought the steaming liquid to her lips. She savoured the flavour, licking her lips while gazing at Andy through lowered lids, before saying, "acceptable."

Andy beamed and watched as her love took another sip, before setting the cup back down.

"Good morning." Suddenly a lot more warmth was allowed to seep into Miranda's eyes, and she smiled as she raised a hand to stroke Andy's cheek. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, like a log," the younger woman replied with a grin. "It appears I got thoroughly worn out last night."

To Andy's delight, Miranda laughed at the naughty innuendo.

"Hmmm, I guess I may have overestimated your physical capabilities then," she replied with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, while sweetly caressing the brunette's mouth.

"Oh no!" Andy sat up straight and widened her shoulders. "We'll just need to... practice more."

Miranda smiled a crooked half smile and trailed her fingers down Andy's throat, where she traced the collar of the crisp, white shirt.

"I guess we will have to, then."

Andy nodded vigorously.

"This suits you," the older woman continued as she fingered the bow tie. "Maybe next time _you_ will need to show up with a top hat and cane, and sweep _me_ off my feet." She bit her bottom lip in that way that always gave Andy the urge to clench her thighs together.

"Yes, _Milady_."

They smiled at each other, basking in the knowledge that they had yet again reached a new level of intimacy.

"Come here," Andy whispered. She lifted the tray and placed it to her left, before pulling at the bed sheets.

Miranda obeyed and slowly crawled closer, more of her delicious skin being revealed as the covers slipped away. Anticipation had Andy's heart racing, and she held out her arms and allowed her lover's knees to loosely straddle her sides. The older woman gazed down at her, eyes full of love, and with a tug at slightly rounded hips, Andy pulled her all the way down and onto her lap.

Recognition lit up Miranda's eyes when she settled against the object in the brunette's groin, and a beautiful shade of magenta spread over her cheeks and chest.

Andy simply smiled and locked her arms around her lover's back.

"Would you like a strawberry?"

The older woman nodded and rested her palms flat against Andy's chest, while slowly rolling her hips against the long shape under the shirt with a sigh.

Andy reached for a piece of fruit and suddenly felt a bit unsure. They had never combined food and sex before, and Miranda wasn't known to tolerate people eating anywhere but at a table. Things always got especially scary when clothes and stickiness were involved, and Andy stopped her hand halfway to her lover's mouth.

To her utter surprise, Miranda grasped her wrist and brought the strawberry the remaining distance to her face, where she stuck out her tongue and sensually sucked the red fruit into her mouth. Andy's finger's trembled at the erotic display, but she held the green stem tightly, feeling the rhythmic suckling motion until her lover bit down and closed her lips to chew, juice running down the corner of her mouth. Without a doubt Miranda had done that on purpose, for she was anything but a messy eater, and almost as if in a trance, Andy dropped her hand and leaned forward.

Her tongue traced the sticky trail down to Miranda's chin, before curling back up and seeking entrance to her lover's mouth. Her senses were overwhelmed by the flavour of coffee and strawberries, and the way Miranda's tongue began massaging her own sent little currents of pleasure right down between her thighs. The kiss was slow and pure foreplay. Skilled fingers pulled at the buttons of Andy's shirt, and the brunette moaned against her lover when Miranda brushed against the swells of her breasts.

They broke apart when the older woman fumbled with the bow tie, pulling it over the shirt's collar, before sliding the stiff fabric down Andy's arms, until the brunette was naked except for the harness and the thin strip of fabric around her neck. The shirt was tossed aside, and Miranda took the half eaten piece of fruit of from Andy's fingers and returned it to the tray. She grabbed a new, full strawberry, and with a smirk she slowly brushed it along her lover's opened lips.

Andy wanted to bite at it, longing for the sweet flavour to coat her tongue again, but Miranda kept teasing her. A warm arm slung around Andy's middle and they touched their chests together, both gasping at the familiar feeling of their breasts melting against each other. Their hips rocked together, eliciting a moan from Miranda. They looked at each other, desire dilating their pupils and causing their nostrils to flare. The older woman took the strawberry and expertly twisted off the stem, before bringing the fruit back to Andy's lips.

"Hold it between your teeth, Darling," she whispered, and the younger woman bit down gently, closing her lips around the middle of the ripe berry. Miranda sucked her own fingers clean, drawing out the movements as her digits disappeared in her mouth, before she finally brought her lips to Andy's. Their tongues began to duel around the strawberry, the odd mix of textures heightening the brunette's senses, and when Miranda's hands began to caress her back, Andy knew she was in heaven.

Food and Miranda were clearly the best combination ever.

She allowed her palms to slide down to her lover's backside, cupping her soft butt cheeks and pulling their groins closer together. Miranda moaned as she ground against the rubber toy again, and she bit down on the berry. Their tongues each snatched one half of the fruit and they slowly pulled away from the kiss, eyes glassy as they chewed, noses still touching.

After they had both swallowed, Miranda pulled Andy in for another kiss. Now free from the risk of choking, their tongues met with firm strokes, dancing over teeth and lips, as if to ravish each other through their mouths alone. The older woman's arm hooked behind Andy's neck to lock her into place and pull them even closer together. The brunette tried to reach between them to touch her lover's breasts, but there was no room to maneuver. She reluctantly broke the kiss and leaned back.

Miranda's lips were swollen and red, and her breath was shallow as she gazed questioningly back at her. Andy just smiled and reached for another strawberry. She carefully bit off the tip, eyes never leaving Miranda, and then leaned forward again to feed the piece of fruit to her lover's mouth with a kiss.

When the older woman was busy chewing, Andy used the remaining bit of strawberry to paint a circle around Miranda's right breast. The pink juice glistened in the sunlight, and the older woman closed her eyes when Andy lowered her head to trace the sticky trail with her tongue. She repeated the action on her lover's left breast, purposefully leaving out the dark areolas, until she felt Miranda tug at the back of her neck. Bringing the fruit to the right breast again, Andy gently coated the stiff nipple with juice, before closing her lips around it and humming in delight at the sweet flavour.

Miranda threw her head back and Andy felt their weight shift. She had to hold tightly to her lover to keep them up right, and she forcefully sucked more of the delicious skin into her mouth. Her tongue massaged the bud, lapping up any remaining traces of strawberry, and she felt the vibration of her lover's hum against her lips. She released the nipple with a plop and smiled up at Miranda while running the fruit over the tip of her other breast.

"Oh god," the editor moaned when Andy devoted just as much loving attention to the opposite side, and she arched her back to allow the younger woman better access. When Andy was finished, she pulled away, her sticky lips pulling into a wide grin as she took in her lover's flushed state. She dropped the remaining fruit back in the general direction of the tray, and before she could bring a new strawberry back to Miranda's mouth, the older woman had already captured her lips again.

This kiss was almost frantic, and Miranda, who had still been on her knees this entire time, unsteadily brought her feet forward, one after the other, to curl her legs around Andy's middle. The brunette opened her thighs and let her lover sink between them, angling her knees so she could cross her ankles behind Miranda's backside. It was the ultimate embrace, their centres mere inches away from each other, the flexible rubber toy so close to pressing against her lover's wetness.

"One more," Andy whispered when she broke the kiss. She took the fruit between her fingers and slowly drew a curvy line down Miranda's middle, taking a moment to tease the belly button, before guiding it along the crease where Miranda's thighs met her hips. Her lover's breathing was heavy, her beautiful chest rising and falling, pushing out her breasts as she inhaled. Not breaking her gaze with Miranda, Andy finally brought the strawberry between them, running it through the trimmed patch of hair, before dipping below and into musky wetness.

Her lover's hips tilted forward, welcoming the touch, and Andy was awed at how much Miranda trusted her. They gazed at it each other when Andy moved further, gently running the strawberry through the editor's folds, twisting it carefully when she arrived at the opening. Miranda rested her hands on Andy's shoulders and bit her bottom lip. Her eyelids lowered and the brunette revelled in the heavy look of pure lust in her lover's eyes. With a firm flick of her wrist she pushed inside, the tip slid only just past the entrance, but the fruit was hard enough to slightly stretch Miranda.

"Oh... Andrea..." she moaned, her fingers digging hard into Andy's shoulders. "I can't believe... what you're doing..." she panted, eyes closing against the sensation.

Andy knew that this was probably pushing all sorts of boundaries, but she couldn't help herself, and the look of shear pleasure on her lover's face was enough to keep her going.

"But you're loving it, aren't you?" She whispered, her voice thick with desire.

"Uh... Darling," Miranda ground her pelvis forward. "I love everything you do to me."

Gently withdrawing the berry, Andy dragged it through the slickness and up to the bundle of nerves, rubbing gently against it, before running all the way down again, to dip back into her lover's heat.

"I think..." the older woman moaned, "this is positively the... _naughtiest_... thing I have ever done."

A sense of pride filled Andy's chest and she carefully pressed the strawberry into Miranda again. When she felt the ease with which the fruit slipped inside, she knew her lover was ready and she gently withdrew her hand and brought the berry to her own lips. Making sure Miranda was watching, Andy extended her tongue and licked at her lover's arousal, before slowly biting into the warmed fruit.

"Oh my god..." Miranda clamped a palm over her eyes, but still peeked through her fingers as Andy devoured the strawberry. The mix of flavours was overwhelming, and Andy moaned when the tangy sweetness travelled down her throat. She deposited the stem back on the tray and gazed at her lover, unsure whether in her love-drunk stupor, she may have crossed the line.

Miranda removed her hand from her eyes and gazed back at her.

"Darling, that was so awkward to watch," she spoke softly, her fingers looping under the bow tie around Andy's neck. "But also... so... very... hot." She tugged and crushed her lips back against Andy's, immediately seeking out her lover's tongue.

There was no doubt in Andy's mind that this was it where the food was concerned. They were done playing.

Miranda held her tightly, their bodies flowing together, thighs closing around each other. They shifted their groins closer, and Miranda moaned around Andy's tongue as she ground against the toy again. Overcome with love for the magnificent woman in her arms, Andy reached down and blindly took hold of the strap-on. She held it up and broke the kiss to watch Miranda's face. The older woman bit her lip and looked down between them, before carefully angling her hips and allowing the rubber appendage to slowly slide into her.

Andy couldn't believe how intimate this was. After all, it was just a sex toy, not part of her own anatomy. However, she could still feel the ease with which it slipped into her lover and how Miranda gripped and pulled it at it with each roll of her hips. Urged on my the need to be even closer to her, Andy pressed her palms against Miranda's buttocks and pulled them firmly together.

"Oh god... Andrea..."

Their movements were slightly restricted, only their hips dancing in a slow rhythm, and Andy was aware that, at this angle, she couldn't completely fill her lover. But it was enough for now. They swayed together, eyes locked, arms slung around their backs, and their breathing picked up as they tenderly rocked against each other. With every movement, Miranda released little whimpers that travelled straight to Andy's heart.

How could it be that the most powerful woman in the world of fashion, a woman so beautiful that anyone on this planet would fall to her feet in adoration and not a little fear, would decide to, of all people, give her heart to her? Andy had been the young spring chicken without significant life experience, with the horrible clothes and the cheeky attitude, always questioning Miranda's actions and crossing all the lines. And yet, here they were, entwined together in the most intimate of all embraces, and there was so much love radiating from Miranda, it took Andy's breath away.

She pressed her forehead to Miranda's, inhaling her scent, and ran her fingers tenderly through her lover's silky silver hair.

"You're so beautiful, Mira."

Her lover pulled at her lower back, urging their groins impossibly closer, and Andy could feel from the flexing of Miranda's thighs around her, that she was nearing her release. Despite wanting to reach down and aiding her love by touching her bundle of nerves, Andy preferred to simply hold her tight. Their relationship wasn't about quick, satisfactory sex. It was so much more. Unconditional affection and mutual trust mattered more than anything. There was nothing wrong with a hard, sweaty quickie - god knows they've had their fair share of those, but Andy especially treasured moments like this, when they embraced and looked at each other while making slow, gentle love.

Brushing her nose gently to Miranda's, she urged her lover on, pushing into her as far as she could manage in her position. Miranda's breath hitched and then her thighs began to shake, her pelvis grinding forward in fast, erratic thrusts. Her arms clamped tightly around Andy's back, and she buried her face in the younger woman's neck. She was quiet when the orgasm rolled through her, her parted lips brushing against Andy's skin, and she panted as her body continued to shake. After a few moments, Miranda pushed Andy back and they collapsed onto the mattress together in a tangle of sweaty limbs.

Miranda rested her cheek on the brunette's chest, still hugging her tightly, and as their breathing gradually slowed, Andy tenderly stroked over her lover's back. Feeling Miranda's heart hammering wildly against her chest was one of Andy's favourite sensations. It proved that the editor was really there in her arms, and that it wasn't just a wonderful dream. Her lover's breath ghosted across her skin, warm and soothing, and Miranda's fingers caressed the hollow at the base of Andy's throat.

"My Darling," Miranda whispered, and she slowly propped herself up on the younger woman's chest to gaze down into her eyes. "Every day I find myself falling more and more in love with you." A fingertip stroked down the length of Andy's nose. "If that is even possible."

The way Miranda glowed - eyes shiny, skin flushed, and her hair falling messily around her face, roused such deep affection in Andy, that she found herself tightening her hold and squishing her lover to herself in an almost painful hug.

"Uh... Andrea, I didn't say you could kill me, though," Miranda chuckled, and Andy joined in with a full giggle of her own. The movement lured a small moan from her lover, and Andy remembered that the strap-on was still buried inside her. She titled her hips upward and Miranda squirmed with another moan.

"Oh..."

Andy kissed her sweetly and then whispered, "this way I can go deeper, can't I?" For emphasis, she gently thrust up again and Miranda bit her lip and nodded, her eyes narrowed to mere slits as her head fell backward. Grabbing handfuls of her lover's backside, Andy continued the movement, until Miranda pushed against her shoulders and whispered, "No!"

Her hips stilled, and looking up at Miranda, Andy frowned.

"It's your birthday. You shouldn't be doing any work, my Darling."

"Oh?" Andy grinned and looked at Miranda expectantly.

"Yes, you just lie there," the older woman said with a smirk and slowly sat up. She straddled Andy and rested her palms on the belly in front of her, before languidly grinding down. The sudden pressure of the harness against her clit made the brunette almost jump, and Miranda groaned as the fake phallus slipped all the way inside her.

"Oh, Jesus," she hissed, hips drawing small circles as she pushed down again. Andy could feel the globes of Miranda's ass press into her thighs, and every little movement of her lover's groin translated into delicious friction against her own bundle of nerves. Miranda was a vision, sitting above her, almost commandingly, hair ablaze in the morning sun, skin slick with sweat, and teeth pressing into her bottom lip as she began to ride the strap-on. Her nipples were tight, breasts heaving with each thrust, and she moaned every time she sank down onto the large rubber penis.

Andy was completely enthralled by Miranda floating above her like an ethereal queen. There was no doubt that her lover was in charge of both their pleasure now, and the display of Miranda's power aroused Andy even further. Their eyes locked as they moved together, Andy welcoming each tilt of the older woman's hips with a slight push of her own, and soon she felt her lover's wetness coat her thighs. The noises they were making, had Andy blush, and she tried to pull the crook of her elbow over her eyes, but Miranda wouldn't have that.

"Darling... look at me," she breathed between moans.

And Andy did. She tilted her head down to watch the strap-on penetrate her lover, before it reappeared, slick with Miranda's juices when she raised her hips, only to vanish again deep inside, as the older woman bore down once more. It was almost hypnotising, and Andy recalled exactly how it had felt to be fucked by Miranda the previous night. She could almost imagine the toy being real, picturing just how it stretched her lover inside with every thrust, how it pushed against just the right spots, and the thought alone drove her wild.

Her hands began pulling at Miranda's butt cheeks in sync with their combined thrusts, and the older woman moaned as she arched her back, fingers digging into Andy's hips, her pelvis rocking back and forth, forcing the harness hard against the brunette's hardened clit.

"Oh... yes..."

Andy couldn't fight her urges any longer, and she pushed off the mattress to sit up and firmly embrace her lover, before pressing her backward, and mindful of the headboard, she lowered them both onto the pillows. Miranda released a gasp of surprise, but quickly recovered and locked her legs around Andy's waist. Driven by an almost primal need she had never felt before, Andy curled her hands under her lover's thighs and pushed her legs further up and wider apart, pressing Miranda's knees to either side of her chest. She knew that, thanks to years of yoga, her lover was flexible, and she kept her hands on Miranda's shins, locking her in place as she drove into her again.

"Ahh... oh god... Andrea! Yes!"

Gazing down at her love, Andy slowly picked up a steady pace and thrust into Miranda, making sure each movement went all the way, as deep as she could go. She could feel her lover stretch, the resistance against the toy slowly dwindling, and Andy suddenly understood Miranda's almost feral pounding from the night before. It was almost a sense of obligation, an unspoken demand of her lover for Andy to take her as hard as she could. Giving Miranda great pleasure was all that mattered to her at that moment.

Their moans became shallow and rhythmic as Andy increased her speed, the pressure against her own bundle of nerves almost unbearable. She panted from the exertion and the overwhelming emotions from being allowed to take her lover this way. Miranda reached around them to grab at the harness straps around Andy's butt, and pulled harshly.

Andy began to feel a burn, the blaze starting at her centre, spreading out like a wildfire into her arms and legs, and threatening to combust her chest. She jerked forward uncontrollably as the orgasm crashed down over her, shaking her whole body, and she was vaguely aware of Miranda crying out and matching her irregular movements, while locking her calves around Andy's ribs in a painful hold, heels digging into Andy's back.

They kept thrusting through the fierce aftershocks, grabbing onto each other as if afraid they would drown without the grip. Their faces buried in the nape of each other's necks, they attempted to calm their breathing, while remaining locked together in an impossibly tight embrace and slowly stilling their hips.

Suddenly Miranda let out a deep, guttural groan and Andy's eyes flew open in alarm.

"Oh god, Mira... did I hurt you?"

The older woman slowly lowered her feet to the mattress and opened her eyes. Andy saw nothing but love, and her heart nearly combusted when Miranda began to laugh.

"Oh no, my Love! Far from it." She cupped Andy's cheeks and pulled her face down for a few, brief pecks. "That was... exactly... what I... needed."

Andy grinned against her lover's lips, before sliding her tongue into Miranda's warm mouth and kissing her sweetly, her strokes staying gentle. They embraced and communicated their love to each other through their lips, before Miranda began to squirm a little.

"Sore?" Andy asked while nosing her lover's cheek.

"You're quite smug about that, aren't you?" Miranda said, playfully stern and with a purse on her lips that quickly turned into an adorable pout.

Andy smiled down at her and then very carefully lifted her hips. She slipped out of her lover, amazed at the amount of fluid that dripped down onto the sheets, and kneeling between Miranda's legs, she unfastened the harness. Rather unceremoniously, she tossed the entire contraption onto the carpet and then let herself drop back down into her lover's arms.

Miranda hugged her tightly and their legs slid together, both finally able to feel nothing but slick skin.

"Hi" The brunette grinned shyly, the absence of the toy restoring their usual power balance. Miranda drew her hands up and down Andy's back and sweetly kissed her temple.

"I guess now we're both pretty worn out," she whispered with a grin and Andy giggled against her chest.

"We should rest for another hour or so, before we need to get ready for our lunch meeting."

"_Our_?" Andy raised her head.

"Why, of course, Darling. It's part of your gift." She pulled the messy sheets up and around them.

"I thought it was for work?" Andy looked intently at the older woman. "Mira... you really don't have to do all of this for me," she mumbled as she snuggled back against her lover.

"But I want to. And having our picture taken at the beach by _Peter Lindhberg_, is just as much a present for myself. I've wanted a photograph of the two of us for a while now."

Andy smiled, thinking of how vain Miranda could be, and that of course not just any photographer would do. Choosing Lindhberg meant that the photos would radiate youth and raw sexuality, and the idea that her lover was willing to expose herself like that in front of a camera, made Andy's heart flutter. Her hands happily curled around Miranda's sides as she drifted off into slumber.

* * *

><p>Two and a half hours later, Andy stood in front of the mirror in the sitting room and studied her reflection. Miranda had put out an incredibly surprising ensemble for her to wear. Granted, everything was still of expensive designer brands, but the fact that she was allowed to wear a pair of flared magnolia jeans with a lilac, three-quarter sleeve cotton shirt, was mind-blowing. It appeared as if Miranda truly did see this as a casual day just between the two of them. The thought made Andy smile.<p>

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and she wondered who would have the guts to appear uninvited outside Miranda's hotel room. Hurrying over the carpet on her bare feet, she quickly reached for the handle, ready to shoo away whoever was standing in the hallway. She froze in her tracks when she recognised her former colleague.

"Oh my god! Emily!" She couldn't contain her delight at seeing the redhead. It was likely that Emily had been at the ball the previous night, but Andy had been too occupied with Miranda to really notice anyone else.

"How are you? Come inside!" Andy happily gestured behind her.

Emily stared, flabbergasted. "What are you doing in Miranda's... oh wait. Never mind, I don't even want to know," she scoffed, her face suddenly scarlet as she pushed past Andy.

"Is Miranda here?" She asked, eyes darting around the room.

"She's in the shower," Andy answered helpfully, while leaning against the backrest of one of the arm chairs.

"Right," Emily breathed, still not meeting the brunette's eyes.

"What brings you here? Maybe I can help you?" Andy offered.

"No thanks," the redhead answered a little too abruptly. "I mean, Miranda wanted me to deliver this," she held up a shiny, white paper bag, "to her _personally_."

Andy sensed a bit of hostility from her former colleague, but that wasn't so unusual. Despite her very best efforts to charm the redhead into at least a pleasant work partnership, Emily had never dropped the snooty act around her.

"You can just leave it here. I promise I won't snoop," Andy beamed at the other woman.

"Have you gone soft in the head? When Miranda gives an instruction she expects it to be followed through, precisely as ordered." Emily hissed, her eyes finally meeting Andy's. "Although, I reckon you've gone soft in other places..."

The last was mumbled under Emily's breath, and Andy thought she must have misheard. The redhead didn't appear to be in a good mood, so Andy thought it best to let the matter rest. She was just about to move and check on Miranda, when the bedroom door opened and the editor walked out in nothing but a bathrobe, her hair still damp and her bare feet padding sexily across the carpet. Andy's chest swelled with adoration.

"Just like the good old days," Miranda said in her typical, sarcastic editor voice as she strode to Andy's side. "You two are bickering as if no time has passed at all."

Emily had the grace to blush, but Andy didn't understand why she wouldn't look Miranda in the eye. After almost two years as Miranda's assistant, the redhead surely couldn't be intimidated by her anymore.

"Did you get what I asked for?" Miranda said, completely ignoring her former assistant's uneasy state.

The redhead nodded and handed over the bag.

To Andy's utter surprise, Miranda moved even closer, until their side's touched, and she pulled a small, dark green velvet box from the bag. She held it in front of Andy and leaned in to whisper, "Happy Birthday, my Love."

Shocked at Miranda's blatant display of affection, Andy's gaze shot to Emily, whose face was almost completely red by now, here eyes racing over anything but the two women in front of her .

"Uhm... thank you," Andy said meekly, fingering the luxury box and stiffening when Miranda's hand slipped under the shirt and began trailing up and down her back.

"Don't worry about Emily, Darling." Miranda drawled. "She's seen it all before."

Andy was extremely confused when the redhead began moving her weight from one foot to the other, hands fidgeting so much that her fingertips were the same shade as her face.

"Haven't you, Emily?"

It was Miranda's subtle signature scolding at its finest - if only Andy could enjoy it. Sadly, she had no idea what this was all about, and so she resigned herself to gazing between Miranda and the former assistant, absorbing the air of power radiating off her lover.

"And of course, Emily would never breathe a word... of any of this," Miranda's voice dripped with poison disguised as honey, "to another living soul."

"Y-yes, Miranda," the redhead stammered, and Andy started feeling really sorry for her former co-worker. After all, although she was no longer an assistant, she had apparently still run this one errand for Miranda, making it an actual favour.

Emily began moving toward the door on unsteady legs, her ears glowing as if she had gotten severely sunburned.

"Oh, and Emily?" Miranda said, voice devoid of emotion, and Andy almost flinched, expecting the standard dismissal.

"You may as well know that I have approved Serena's request for transferral." Miranda all of a sudden sounded almost kind. "God knows why she would decline a career-propelling promotion in New York, and instead, opt to move here to switch to London Runway's beauty department."

Emily stopped in her tracks and turned to face the editor.

"Something important must be pulling her here, don't you think?" Miranda continued.

There was a shine in the redhead's eyes as she gaped inelegantly at her former boss. Miranda held the gaze for a while, her hand sliding down Andy's back and into her pants to cup her butt, before softly saying, in her most perfect editor-in-chief voice, "that's all."

Emily was speechless, and after rewarding Andy with a final, lingering glance, she shook herself and hurried toward the exit. As soon as she had gone, Miranda squeezed one of Andy's butt cheeks and nuzzled the brunette's neck.

"Go on. Open it," she pointed at the box in Andy's hands.

"Open it?" Andy almost squeaked in disbelief. "You mean you're not going to tell me what just happened?" She tried her best glare, but it only made Miranda smirk.

"Hmmm... I don't think you want to know, Darling," her lover simply replied, fingers leaving goose bumps on the skin of Andy's backside. "Come on. Please, open your present."

"Alright, but afterwards you will explain to me why you all of a sudden became all possessive and touchy-feely with someone else in the room."

She flipped open the box and was surprised that instead of an expected necklace, or a pair of glamorous earrings, her eyes fell on on a single, polished key. Three crystals adorned the flat surface of the head, a white one and two in a dark orange. Andy traced them with her fingertips in awe, as it slowly dawned on her.

Miranda pressed her nose against Andy's cheek and whispered, "the key to the town house you have, it wasn't ever really... _your_ key. It's just for assistants to deliver the Book." She used her free arm to circle the younger woman's waist and hugged her close. "I wanted you to have a key of your very own. From now on, I want you to use only this one when you come over."

Andy looked down at the sparkly crystals, completely overwhelmed by Miranda's extravagant gesture.

"Give the assistant's key to Darla."

The brunette snorted. "Hey, you know her name."

Miranda sweetly kissed her neck. "Of course I do. I know _everything_."

Andy ignored her lover's boasting and returned her attention to the key. "This is amazing, Mira. I've never seen a key decorated like this."

"Hmmm," the older woman lay her head on Andy's shoulder and stroked a finger down the brunette's arm. "I had it shipped all the way to Austria to have them place the crystals. Yesterday morning, I was notified that there was a problem with the courier service, and with you out of the question," the hand in Andy's pants slowed from the steady massage to a gentle caress, "the only other person I could think of, who would be able to get it here on time, was Emily."

"Ah," Andy nodded. "That makes sense." She turned her face to place a tender kiss on her lover's lips. "Thank you. I love it, and I completely appreciate what it stands for." Her fingers brushed a few damp strands from Miranda's face. "The crystals, they represent you and the twins, don't they?"

"Yes." Miranda smiled.

"I will cherish this key forever and protect it with my life!"

"Good."

With a final kiss, Miranda pulled away, her hot palm leaving a cold spot against Andy's backside, and she sauntered back toward the bedroom to get dressed.

"Hey!" Andy called. "You were going to tell me about Emily!"

Miranda turned, and pursed her lips. Her eyes suddenly appeared to prefer the carpet to Andy's questioning gaze.

"That girl," Andy saw a faint blush crawl onto her lover's cheeks. "... she has always had a bit of a crush on you."

"What? Emily?" The brunette snorted. "No way."

"Which part of 'I know _everything_' did you not understand, Andrea?" Miranda sounded almost hurt. Suddenly Andy understood that her lover was actually jealous.

"Oh, Mira," she hurried over to her and fiercely hugged her from behind. "There could never, ever be anyone but you." She rested her chin on Miranda's shoulder and gently swayed her back and forth. "I love you, and I'm all yours."

Miranda turned in the embrace and locked her hands around Andy's middle.

"I love you, too, my Darling."

She laid her forehead against Andy's and grinned.

"And yes. You're _mine_."

_**The End**_


End file.
